Dealbreaker [Sirius Black X Reader]

dealbreaker [Sirius Black x reader]

word count: 4k

summary: you work in a bookstore. sirius keeps finding reasons to need books.

“What you’re reading now made you seem pleased enough,” he teased. “Maybe something else.” “Let me read it, I’ll take notes.” The way he said it had you pushing your thighs together as tightly as they could go.

tags: marauders era, fluff, flirting lol, reader works at a bookstore, getting together, james is a good friend (and a bastard), fem reader

requested by anon here

There was a ridiculously handsome guy in the bookstore.

You pulled your makeup bag out as casually as you were able, rifling through it for your mirror compact. The reflection that stared back at you looked decent, for once - the bookstore was always quiet during late February, school supplies and Christmas presents were already out of the way, and as a result you looked more rested than usual.

You used the pad of your fingertip to rub away the dark smudges of mascara under your eyes and smooth down your flyaways. Not a bad hair day.

You felt silly. It wasn’t as if someone as attractive as him was about to waste his time on a checkout girl at the bookstore. Still, when he finally made his way to the front desk, book in hand, you put on your friendliest smile.

“Good morning,” you greeted him, voice soft to match the dim light of the shop.

“Hi,” he said. God, even his voice was handsome, bright and smooth.

“Is this all I can help you with?”

This is where he gave pause. “Well-“ he placed the book down between you both so that you could see the title, “if I can ask, do you think this is the type of thing a guy my age would like?”

You studied the cover thoughtfully, looking between it and him with slow blinks.

He tilted his head.

“If you tell me what you usually like to read, I can be of more help.”

“Oh, it’s not for me,” he smiled at you. “A friend.”

“Right,” you laughed awkwardly.

“He likes most everything,” he supplied.

You flipped the cover open to the first page, a list of reviews from other authors. You turned the book so that he could see it, trailing your finger under one of the review’s title.

“This one here. I read her novel, ‘Heaven’, not too long ago. It made me sad for a long time.”

“And that’s - bad?” He sounded genuinely interested in your answer.

You shook your head as though shaking water from inside your ear. “I think the way that it could even make me sad in the first place meant it was a good book. But I’m not sure, your friend might not think so.”

“And ‘Heaven’, you have that here?”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry. Not until next week.”

“I’ll come back,” he said firmly. He’d pushed his hair out of his face, revealing his lovely, soft cheekbones.

“Alright,” you said. It came out wrong.

That should’ve been the end of the conversation, but he hesitated to move, and then said, “Is it busy here?”

You smiled, pleased. Not many customers spent time talking to you beyond a simple thank you.

“It can be. Especially in the month before school starts. The day before, even.”

He chuckled. “I can imagine. I was always running around like a twat the day before term started.”

A startled laugh burst out of you and you covered your mouth with your hand. “Me too. I was never the organised sort.”

“You look plenty organised now.”

“Do I?”

“Oh, very much so.” He waved a hand at the tower of books you’d created earlier in the week that decorated the side of the counter. “A masterpiece such as this would never come about by someone who didn’t have sufficient organisational skills.”

You grinned, “Quite right. Complicated thing, stacking.”

“Yes, I’d think so.”

Your laughter petered out. He cleared his throat.

“Right then. I’ll be back next week,” he said.

“I’ll see you then.”

“Bye, love.”

“Bye,” you said, kicking the toe of your shoe against the desk, wondering how to spend the next few hours.

-

Truth be told, you’d almost forgot about the handsome customer the next time you saw him. Life was busy and lonely and loud, there were clothes to be washed and dishes to be done and stock to be counted.

You thought of him when the new shipment of books arrived for March. Had he found a gift for his friend? You set aside a copy of  Heaven for him with a sticky note on top that said your name so a coworker knew who wanted it.

When he appeared the next time he was accompanied by a man with dark brown hair. You were in the storeroom, writing down figures, piling restocks onto your metal book cart.

Your coworker burst in. You raised an eyebrow.

“There’s a man here for you, asking about ‘Heaven’?” she said dubiously, raising her eyebrows at you.

“It’s a book,” you said.

“Sure, sweetie, sure it is.”

You rolled your eyes, dragging the cart behind you. You left it where it was when you saw him, making your way to the front counter. You pulled the copy of Heaven from your cubby. His friend had wandered off into the non-fiction section, leaving him standing by himself. He glanced at the counter and smiled when he saw you walking towards him.

“For you,” you said, offering him the book.

He turned it over in his hands. It wasn’t the most exciting looking book, and perhaps the story itself wasn’t exciting either. All you knew was that it was a damn good book.

“Do you think your friend will like it?”

He seemed surprised that you’d even remembered the book at all, smiling gratefully at your question. “I think he will.”

“Is it the one pretending not to be watching us right now?”

He looked over his shoulder with the essence of a regal man. The friend almost toppled over himself in his rush to move from sight. The handsome guy sighed through his nose. “No, not that dolt. Please ignore him.”

You laughed, a quiet thing.

“Do you need anything else?” you asked him, fully expecting him to say no.

“Actually,” he started, shoving his free hand deep in his pocket. “My friend over there is expecting. Do you have any books on pregnancy?”

You beamed. “Wow, congratulations for your friend. You can follow me down here and we’ll see what we find.”

You led him to the parenting section. It was a decent sized bookstore with a good selection of books, so finding something worthwhile was easy as pie. You searched the spines, running your hand across them until you found an old classic.

“‘Baby and Child’ by Penelope Leach,” you read to him. “Lots of mother’s come in for this one.”

You pulled it from the shelf.

“Any friend of the family’s for it?” he asked, eyes scanning the front.

“You’d be the first. It’s nice that you care so much.”

“Well, I’m his godfather. Or I will be, when he’s born,” he corrected himself in a hurry.

He was much too attractive to be stumbling over words talking to you. He was the kind of guy you’d expect to see in Teen Vogue, or in the transatlantic films they played in the local cinema. Not the kind of boy to waste time asking you about baby books and buying thoughtful gifts.

“Can I help you with anything else?” you asked, straightening your skirt out.

“Oh - no. No, that’s great. Thanks so much…?” his voice lifted up at the end.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he smiled to himself. “Thanks for your help.”

“You're welcome,” you nodded, ducking away. You returned to your cart to finish putting the new stock away, watching your coworker checking out the handsome guy and his friend from the corner of your eye. You realised later that you hadn’t asked him his name in return.

-

The sunlight leaking in through the window was warming your face. Tired to begin with, you felt yourself close your eyes without thinking about it, face dropping where you held it in your hand.

It was still rather early in the year to expect any warm weather where you lived, so you savoured the heat. The pages of the book you’d been reading, hidden behind the till, were drifting shut around the fingers of your other hand. You were too tired to correct them.

The bell at the door jingled. It had been so peaceful that you flinched, straightening up on your stool.

It was the handsome guy from before. He drifted without preamble to the front desk. You hurried to look presentable, the first thought that ran through your head being, oh jesus h christ, he would come today. A day where you looked puffy and exhausted.

“Hi, Y/N.”

You did your best to contain a pleased smile. “I would say hi too, but I didn’t ask you your name last time.”

He leaned the palm of his hand on the counter between you, having to lean down just slightly to meet your eyes. “It’s Sirius.”

“Sirius,” you tested, the name sweet on your tongue. “Like the constellation.”

“Exactly like that,” he said. He was dressed smart as always, shirt rolled up to the elbows and slacks. You wondered what he did for work to dress the way he did.

“You need help?” you asked, closing your book.

He was watching your mouth. “I need a cookbook.”

“For yourself?”

“I’m hosting a dinner party,” he said. “Though ‘dinner party’ sounds awfully formal.”

“What kinda food do you want to make?”

He seemed reluctant to admit it, but he told you about how he was actually learning to cook for himself for the first time, and wanted to seem mildly put together at his house warming party. “Flat-warming party,” he corrected.

“You never cooked for yourself before?” you asked. He looked like he could be 20 years old, at least.

“I went to boarding school.”

“You did? Wow, what was that like?”

He grinned infectiously. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said.

You rounded the counter to lead him to the cookbook section. It was one of the biggest collections of books that you had, and he seemed appropriately daunted.

“There’s a few.”

You laughed agreeably. “I bet you saw some pretty good ones at school.”

“If you liked pickled newt and hogroast.”

“Private school, huh?”

He laughed, loud and startled, like it was the funniest thing anyone and ever said. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. “Basically.”

“I don’t think we have anything like that…” you dug your fingertips into the soft skin at the base of your throat, thinking. “You like seafood? I use this one all the time,” you said, shuffling a few books to pull a familiar cookbook free.

“You have it at home?” he asked.

“I do. You think your dinner guests like prawn cocktail? That’s super fancy. Little cups of sauce, all that cool stuff. Oh my god, and crab! That would impress them, I bet.”

“You think so?”

“Sure. Well, maybe. There’s pasta?” you suggested, waving your hand vaguely at the Italian stuff.

He shook his head, holding his hand out for the cookbook. “If I take this one, you’ll mark down your favourites?”

“Sure.”

-

One day your coworker was grinning so widely you felt as though she was about to tell you something scandalous. You looked at her apprehensively.

“What?”

“There was a dashing young man here yesterday. Tall, dark, handsome. Spent 20 minutes loitering by the front, and then left.”

You smiled despite yourself. “He did?”

Your coworker smirked, a shark smelling blood in the water. “Yes.”

“He didn’t say anything?”

“I told him you’d be in again tomorrow.”

You gasped. “You didn’t!”

“He had that book you liked; I thought you’d be happy to see him.”

You went to the bathroom, frenzied, to apply a fresh dab of concealer under each eye, a new coat of sticky, shiny lip gloss. Your hair looked lackluster. You ran your hands through it, wetting your fingertips to push down the flyaways.

You spent hours behind the counter, at first attentive and then less so. Eventually you realised he probably wasn’t coming and stopped sitting ram-rod straight, your shoulders aching from the effort.

You took your lunch break as usual, eating a simple, squished sandwich with one hand and turning the pages of a new book with another. A romance, smutty, the kind that needed its cover to be hidden away to consume without shame.

The girl was shy, lonely, attending a Christmas party at an acquaintance's house. The love interest was intelligent, smooth. They were flirting. The guy had just said something that brought heat to your cheeks when a familiar voice broke your concentration.

“I fear I’ve come at a bad time.”

You flinched, shutting the book with enough force to make the stool wobble underneath you. He put a hand out to catch you instinctively. You recovered, dropping your sandwich back in the tattered cling film you’d wrapped it in.

You swallowed without chewing, throat burning. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear the bell.”

“Yes, you seemed rather… entranced.”

The blush intensified. “How are you?” you asked, desperate to move the subject on.

He seemed pleased. “Brilliant. Yourself?”

“I’m good, yeah. Had a day off yesterday.” As soon as you said it, you felt stupid. He knew you’d had a day off.

“Get around to anything?”

“I did about as much as I do here, which, as you can see, isn’t a lot.”

He leaned down, resting an attractive forearm on the countertop. He looked you dead in the eye, which was enough for you to flush again. “You do plenty.”

“No, really. Getting up to find my lunch was about as much as I’ve moved today.”

“I don’t believe you.” He pushed his hand into the big pocket on his jacket. He procured a slightly worn copy of Heaven. “I borrowed this from Remus - the friend, not from last time - and I wanted to talk to you about it, if you’ve a second?”

“Yes, oh my god. Did you like it?”

“It was sad, like you said.”

“It was.”

“And the ending-“

“Infuriating,” you supplied. He nodded, sending you a smile like you were both in on a secret.

“I kept waiting for him to go and see the painting she loved. I thought they’d go see it together, at least.”

“She left so suddenly, too.”

“Right? I thought maybe, before it finished, he’d go see it himself if he couldn’t go with her,” Sirius said.

You searched for the right words to explain your thoughts. “I think… I think because the painting was never really called heaven, that it was a name she chose for it, that when he sees the trees at the end and he’s crying - he’s seeing a version of heaven himself. Not like, God’s heaven. Her heaven.”

Sirius never once looked away from you, didn’t look bored or like he disagreed. He just listened.

“I still have to wonder what the painting looked like,” he said after you’d finished.

“What would your heaven look like?” you asked him. It was perhaps too personal.

“My friends. For you?” he asked.

You weren’t sure. You knew you should say your family, your friends, but something made you really think about it.

“Have you ever gotten up so early it was still dark outside, and you go outside and it’s so quiet, it feels as though nobody else in the world is awake? And you look at the sky - it’s blue with the yellow horizon, it’s purple, or it might even be those clouds tinged pink. I don’t-“ you paused, embarrassed at your babble, “I don’t think I could choose one to be, like, immortalized as heaven. But maybe then.”

He was smiling at you.

“I’m sorry, I must sound like a terrible person.”

“No, of course you don’t. The heaven she spoke about wasn’t necessarily what she loved most in the world. She went there when she was sad.”

You smiled in relief, shoulders relaxing. “Was it only sad?”

His face was handsome, poised, and although he doled out happiness generously you couldn’t work out how he was feeling . “It made me think about stuff I’d forgotten - how people do things to other people without thinking about it. For fun.”

He was so serious. You nodded, twisting your hand in the fabric of your skirt.

“It was a good book. But uh,” he pushed his hand up through his long hair. It fell down into place, looking amazingly soft. “Maybe you can recommend something happier, this time.”

You laughed. “Yes, I think so.”

“What you’re reading now made you seem pleased enough,” he teased.

“Maybe something else.”

“Let me read it, I’ll take notes.”

The way he said it had you pushing your thighs together as tightly as they could go.

-

It was busy in the shop one day the next week. You didn’t have a chance to sit down, carrying back and forth enough notebooks and new fantasy novels to fill a school library. Your legs shook by the end of the day. You basically had to crawl back to your countertop.

There, clear as day, was a bouquet of roses. They were small, barely blooming, the color of candy floss. They were wrapped in clear plastic and resting on their side. It wasn’t a grand display, but they were beautiful.

There was a note, written on a weird parchment that didn’t have any lines in ink. You gawked at it.

‘Busy day?’

You slipped the parchment between the pages of your current read to use as a bookmark, grinning. You took the roses home, where they lived on your dresser for a month without showing any signs of wilting.

-

Somebody was staring at you in the food shop. You could feel their gaze on the back of your neck. You turned around, a little worried, to find a cute young baby gazing at you excitedly. He was extremely happy looking, a funny looking rattle in his cute chubby fist.

You waved at him. He babbled at you.

His mother was turned from you both, looking at the pasta shapes.

The baby chucked his toy as hard as he could towards you. You laughed so abruptly his mother turned around in surprise, watching as you retrieved the rattle and offered it to her. She smiled at you in thanks.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized, pushing her long, shiny hair from her face.

“Don’t be, please,” you said.

“Harry’s recently learned that when you throw things, somebody will pick it back up for you,” she said, half-amused, half-bitter.

“He’s gorgeous. He can throw things at me as much as he likes.”

“He’s the image of my husband,” she said, waving her fingers at Harry. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Don’t tell me what?” James asked.

You’d seen him before. He was the friend that accompanied Sirius to your bookstore a few weeks ago, peering at you around the corner.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said.

“James?” Lily questioned, looking between you both, mildly perturbed.

“This is Y/N. You work at the book shop near us, don’t you? Where Sirius goes,” James said, dropping the kitchen towels in the cart. Harry’s happiness was tenfold. “Hello, little man.”

“I’m Lily,” she introduced herself. “Sirius is Harry’s godfather, of course.”

“Of course,” you said, though you weren’t sure at all. Harry looked very old, and Sirius had mentioned a friend who was expecting. Looks could be deceiving, but Lily didn’t appear pregnant at all. James was watching you with an amused look on his face.

“He’s 8 months,” he said, grinning.

“He’s lovely.”

“So, you know Sirius then?” Lily asked. They were a stunning couple, grinning and fresh-faced.

“He buys a lot of books.”

They both laughed. “I bet he does,” James said.

You frowned, feeling as though you’d been walking down the stairs and missed the last one.

“James,” Lily scolded.

“I haven’t seen him for a while,” you rambled nervously.

“Don’t fear, he’s off helping Remus with a pest problem,” James said.

Lily and James were amazing at making small talk. They were the kind of people you felt like you could easily have been friends with in another life, both of them enamoring you with their charm and obvious love for each other. They moved like they were facing the same winds, like blades of grass next to each other. And baby Harry was an adorable plus.

Only because Harry was beginning to get annoyed with his constraints did they bid you goodbye. You’d retrieved your basket, telling them to come around the bookstore any time, and mentioning the storytelling hours on weekends. Lily promised to be there.

“And Y/N!” James called.

You turned back around.

“Sirius is allergic to shellfish!” he said over his shoulder. His wife punched him in the shoulder.

-

It took you a while to piece it together.

The more you thought about it, the more obvious it became. And even though you weren’t sure what a charming, stunning guy like Sirius wanted with a girl like you, you were 67 percent sure he fancied you.

You waited for the next time you saw him. He was loitering by your desk and trying his every best to look as though he’d been there by pure coincidence. You might’ve believed he was, if you didn’t know what you did.

“I was wondering if you could help me find a book,” you asked him. He turned to you, surprised. You continued. “On how to get a guy to ask you out.”

He gaped at you. Unusually, for somebody so well-composed.

“‘Cos I think I’m doing something wrong.”

“What gave you that impression?” he asked, voice scratchy.

“This boy keeps coming to the bookstore. A while ago, he asked me for a book on pregnancy for a friend who’d already had the baby. He bought a cookbook I recommended knowing he couldn’t eat a single thing in it, and the one time I wasn’t here he went home without buying anything. He even left me flowers.”

You took a deep breath, all the bravery rushing out of you. You looked down at his shoes.

“Despite all this, he hasn’t asked me out.”

“He sounds like an idiot.”

“He isn’t,” you denied. “He’s striking, intelligent and thoughtful. He’s not an idiot at all.”

“I think I have been.”

“Well, maybe a little,” you admonished.

He stepped into your space, shoes a millimeter from your own. You knew if you looked up that he would be incredibly close.

“Would you look at me?”

You held your breath, looking through your lashes at his face. His expression was hard to describe, lips in a straight line, eyes intense. He used his index finger to gently tilt your chin up towards him.

“I’m sorry to mess you around, but I’ve never been a big reader. If you think you can look past that, I’d like to take you out. Wherever you want to go.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, remembering yourself. “It’s a real deal breaker, but I think I’ll get over it,” you said quietly, feeling a shyness creep into your words that you didn’t recognise.

“Yeah?” he asked. He was closer now, his exhales tickling your face. You blinked slowly.

“Yes.”

He leaned forward. You closed your eyes, dazzled at the sensation of his nose against yours. He paused, a second, with his lips just above yours. The second was enough to make your stomach feel as though it had been inhabited by a family of butterflies.

He held your chin between his finger and thumb, finally letting his lips touch yours. He was firm, tender. You brought your hand up to his face, barely able to withhold the urge to run your fingers through his hair, relishing in the way he inhaled at your touch. You let him guide you, kissing you sweetly. A warmth bloomed in your chest.

He pulled away, moving his hand up to the side of your face. You leaned into his touch.

“Wherever I want?” you asked, seeing stars.

“Wherever you want. Heaven, if you’d like.”

<3

the book they talk about is heaven by meiko kawakamI, which didn’t come out all those years ago but i put it in anyways! it’s a brilliant book and i recommend it to everyone

tag club :3:

marauders tag list @marimorena06 @glimmering-darling-dolly @siriuslystfu @thatblackravenclaw @etneufaled @thatonecomfyjumper @lupinlust

if u want to be added or removed or i forgot you pls message me! thank u tag club

So I had one of my guy friends send me a couple songs for a playlist I was making and one was from daredevil and I just started watching and finally got to the part where the song is and I think he's trying to tell me something😶😶😶

Darling, listen to me.I made my choice. Duty to my country over love.It’s what I’ve always done, it seems. It was drummed into me my whole life. Now I’ve lost the only man I ever really loved. Mia, I want you to make your choices as a woman. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.Make your own mistakes. There’ll be plenty of them, believe me. Now, you can go back into that church and get married, or you can walk away. Whatever choice you make, Iet it come from your heart.

The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement (2004) dir. Garry Marshall

The last episode was so bittersweet😭❤❤

THANK YOU, RYAN BERGARA AND SHANE MADEJ! Buzzfeed Unsolved (2016 - 2021)

Mae i adore any and all writing you do for james 💕💕 thank you for feeding my james potter obsession 😚

Hello dear! I loved your writing 'Pleaser' by James. You could write about Y/N comforting an anxious James. He takes him to the prefects' bathroom and they shower, wash his hair (while making eye contact) and stuff like that, and that comforts him. Thanks baby

Safe haven (0.8k)

summary: you calm down an anxious james by washing his hair.

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

warnings: anxiety attack, non sexual nudity

a/n: here ya go babes, hope u like it !! also i set this in their dorm bathroom bc I felt like it was more private for this case

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

From the shaky hands and tousled hair, you could already tell what was wrong with James from the back of the classroom. He was looking back at you every few minutes to calm down the harsh beating of his heart— but he still couldn't shut off the ticking bomb in his head.

You frowned at James and tried to control yourself, not wanting to disrupt the class and make a big scene. Luckily, Merlin was shining down on you and not a moment later had Mcgonagall dismissed the class, causing you to bolt upright and rush to get your stuff inside your bag.

James had already made his way toward you, his satchel tucked under his arm as he instantly threaded his hand with yours. He looks down to give you a look, and you know full well what he wants by it— help me calm the fuck down.

You leaned up to capture his mouth for a moment, hoping the taste of your gloss would slow down his heart. "I know, let's go." You told him quickly, grabbing all your things and heading straight to the Gryffindor tower.

Both you and James were quick on your feet, ending up in his dorm room in less than ten minutes and already walking to the bathroom. This was what James asked from you when he had rare anxiety attacks. He only asked for closeness, a little intimacy, and lots of holding each other. Most of the time he smothered you, wanting to be close and nothing but be close to you. But when he was anxious, he wanted more. It was quite unusual, but James had always been a physical person. So it was natural he wanted something more firm when his mind was uncertain and all over the place.

"Come here." You told him, taking his hand and closing the bathroom down shut and locked it with a click. Your hands are quick to untie the tie around his neck, making him able to breathe deeper without it. You leaned up on your toes to kiss him again, running a hand on the sides of his face gently. "You'll be fine, love. I'm here, alright? Shh..."

Both of you shed your clothes and let it spill on the floor, quickly hopping in the shower and adjusting the water to turn warm. You allow James to adjust himself under the water first all while running a hand up and down his arm for comfort.

"Could you do my hair?" James asks lowly, his tone uncertain. You nod before he could say anything, making a finger motion for him to turn around. James stopped you there, "No, I— could you face me? Wanna see you, sweetheart. Would make me feel better to focus on you."

"Yeah, 'course." You reply quickly, looking over to see if you had the correct shampoo. You didn't really want to get into a fight with Sirius all because you accidentally used his hair products.

A moment later, after hearing James confirm which of the shower products were his, your hands were rubbing his head gently. You scrubbed the dark locks, making sure they got the soapy substance equally on all sides and proceed to massage James' head.

James pays attention to you while you take care of him. He felt himself drown in you, focusing on filling his senses with your scent rather than letting his anxious thoughts take over. He found solace in your focused expression, determined to calm him down. "Mm. Feels good. Thank you." He says, not averting his gaze anywhere else but to you.

"You don't have to thank me, Jamie. Whenever you need me ... I'm there." You assure him, playfully curling your fingers around his soapy curls.

James shook his head slightly, his hand readying the shower head and getting ready to rinse his head. "Today was just shit. I tried— I really tried to focus in class, but nothing was going in my head and I just ... fuck— I just couldn't. I couldn't, and that lead to me getting the anxiety attack. So yes, yes I do need to thank you. You're the only person beside the boys who can calm me down. And these head massages only come from you—" he pauses, chuckling at your smiling face and feeling himself get red. "— so ... so thank you, sweetheart. You're my safe haven"

You smiled at him, love filling you up and spilling all over the place. You relished in the fact that he felt safe with you, that he could tell you anything and you'd listen and nod. And you could do the same with him. "Mhm." You said simply, musing about how good he looked all of a sudden when he wss drenched in water and grinning beautifully.

James laughed louder, "What?" He asked with a big smile, cooking his head to the side and teasing you by moving the surface of your palms to rest on his chest.

You felt your cheeks warm up, getting flustered at the mere touch of his bare body. "Nothing, nothin'. Just love you, I guess."

"You have no idea how much I love you." James curled his mouth upwards, leaning down and gracing you with a welcoming kiss.

—@ wrathspoet

General: @regulusblackswhorecrux @scandalous-chaos @peter-parkers-cullen-nerd @hugz4camilo @comfort-reads @ughgclden @dulcet-lover @v1oletvenus @raajali3 @bby-gxrnet @ericareyesmylove @yesshewrites1 @teenwolfbitches28 @booknerd1717 @nevilleismywhore @momoewn @the-blue-forest @remuswr1t3s @littlelunatica

Marauders: @risingtripletaurus @athenapotter @lauralestrange7 @sagepotters @padf00ts-l0ver @mydarlingremuslupin @bby-gxrnet @nikkitc0703 @highony0u-blog @scrletletter

James Potter: @rqmanoff @destourtereaux @messrsssss @loopy-lupinn @lilithcromwell @my-dearest-moony @rebeccanasa @imabee-oralizard @zabinisgf

// add yourself to my taglist

Please Reblog is Your Blog is Safe for Non-Binary People.

If my mutuals can’t rb this then we can’t be mutuals